


regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all

by orphan_account



Category: Touch the Skyrim (Web Series)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10424895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Susan wasn’t always a capable, confident orc sex princess.  Sometimes the greatness thrust upon you is a heavy burden; she refuses to let it weigh her down.





	1. when you walk away you don't hear me say please oh baby, don't go

**Author's Note:**

> i refuse to write anything good or quality but i will write was the world needs, which is a susan crushbone origin story

The prophecy was something passed between tight lips and gritted teeth among the Crushbone clan, something widely known but never openly spoken of, and for reasons Susan never understood but knew were deliberate, never reached her ears.

She got the point easily enough, though.  Whatever fate had been laid out before her, it eclipsed her and everything she did.  Her quick reflexes in combat, her diplomatic managings, her charisma that could sway the most adamant of strangers, none could stop the nervous looks her family had when they thought she wasn’t looking.  

They always tried to chaperone her, so sneaking away into town to be around people her age became a game of high-stakes espionage.  Bringing anyone home for any intents and purposes required strategy on par with history’s greatest tacticians.  And it all came from a place of compassionate, if not suffocating and ambiguous, concern from her family.

Apparently each time a new Crushbone child was born, they would call in an oracle to predict their path.  Apparently they’d never seen a fate as concerning to them as dear Susan’s.  She felt like the whole tradition was a bit like looking a gift horse in the mouth, honestly.

When she finally reached the very beginning of adulthood, she decided with a certain sort of vehemence that it was her right to know whatever particularly terrifying arrangement the stars had in store for her.  Lately a strange sense of pride had been swelling within her, that her fate was so incredible in some way that people couldn’t dare say it out loud.  And with that, curiosity she knew her family would never sate.

She woke up before the dawn.

She fumbled for her bedside candle before realizing she’d need fire for it to work, then she gave up.  Crawling out of bed, she carded through her drawers of sensible jeans, tearaway shorts and t-shirts from marathons her uncle never actually ran, looking for something that screamed _adventure_ and _determination_ , eventually deciding on some linen underclothes and leather armor from her blunt weapons lessons a year or so ago, still in decent condition.  

The threat of physical danger loomed over her journey, too, and she rifled through her closet for an adequate weapon.  In the darkness of night, she mostly felt her way through swords, daggers, axes, Great Grandma Crushbone’s old ceremonial claymore, and was dissatisfied with all of them, and also with the poor judgement of throwing all her good sharp objects into a closet without even organizing them.  Reaching into the back and praying not to get impaled in the process, her hands gripped a shape decidedly squared off, with no sharp edges to be found.

_The perfect blade,_ she thought, and wrenched it and its partner out from the closet, with everything else falling out with loud clatter.  She backed up to the window, and held her twin weapons up in the moonlight to examine more closely.

 

* * *

 

_Just a few days before, a mysterious traveller had come to the Crushbone fortress.  Something like that was in no way unusual, as errant knights came to look for duels, young pages asked to be taken in for mentoring, tradesmen came to offer their services.  They all came with stories, but this visitor was particularly enigmatic.  He never took off his dark woolen cloak, and his eyes were obscured by thick spectacles, and all he asked for was a warm meal and a place to stay for the night._  

_Contrary to their name’s implications, the Crushbones were hospitable.  The visitor was quiet and unobtrusive, and everyone politely pretended not to be confused when he talked about “voring” his food, assuming it was just another foreign word from his exotic and strange dialect._

_The next morning, as he was on his way out and back to his journey, he brushed against Susan in the hall, then held a hand up, motioning for her to pause.  He didn’t look her in the eye.  From beneath his cloak he drew a long parcel wrapped in leather, and he held it out to her.  “I think you’ll need this.  You’ve got a big world ahead of you, my dude.”_

_“Uh, alright,” Susan said, and grasped the package with both hands, drawing it to her chest.  Only then did she realize the stranger’s hand was shaking, and a little bit sweaty._

_“Thank fuck you took that.  I was real nervous I was going to just absolutely bone this and accidentally hand you my lunch or something.”  He pressed his mouth into a thin line, pensive, before shrugging it off.  “Well, that’s it-”_

_“Is this for free?  Because I don’t like being indebted to people.”_

_The stranger waved it off almost frantically.  “No, no, it’s all good.  Private property as a concept is fake anyway.  You can pay me back by buying_ _E•MO•TION on iTunes._ _”  Watching him disappear around the corner, Susan returned to her room, closing the door gingerly behind her._

_By the light of dawn, she pulled apart the packaging, and put aside the rather excessive bubble wrap for later.  Holding them up by the handles, the sun made them almost glitter._

_They were two massive keys._

 

* * *

 

Pulling her woolen cloak over her shoulders, Susan tiptoed through the halls of the old stone fortress with her shoes in her hands to prevent her echoing footsteps from awakening her family.  She kept to the edges and the deeply shadowed corners as she walked.  This was her final escape.  She insisted on it.

Not wanting to deal with the massive, creaking oak door in the main hall, she opened the panes of a window on the ground floor.  Crawling out, she lost her balance, landing with a hard thump in the rose bushes out front.  She scrambled off, dusting the dirt off her shirt, and scanned the courtyard for passerby, but there were none.  She was easily concealed by shadows, but dawn was about the break, and she pulled her shoes on with newfound urgency.  

Suddenly, the idea of saddling and somehow absconding with a loud, albeit beautiful and majestic, horse from the stables seemed to be too much.  Instead, Susan opened the front wooden gate and lifted the iron portcullis just enough to wedge past, and raced to the woods before anyone could be bothered to man the watchtowers.

Once obscured by the trees, her heart, slamming against her ribcage, began to calm down.  She leaned against a nearby tree and shuffled through her bag, eventually pulling out a map snatched from her mother’s desk.

It led her North.

 

* * *

 

After hours of walking and too many blisters, Susan remembered the enigmatic stranger’s words as she entered the next town.

_Private property as a concept is fake anyway_ he’d said.  Her feet ached, but the expanse of the land before her and the newfound ambition of chasing the secrets held from her made a sense of confidence swell in her breast.  As she walked through the cobblestone-paved village, she realized she could take anything she wanted.  The cabbages from a nearby cart, a pie cooling on a windowsill, anything.

The horses, standing unused and bored in the stables, too.  She could just take that.

The whole place smelt like straw and dust as she eased the creaky stable door open.  She walked down its length, examining the creatures as she passed them.  She could just take a saddle, too, and anything else she needed.  Her horse now.

She led the pinto one out into the open.  When a nearby stablehand started yelling, she climbed up onto the mare and nudged it forward, hearing the fainter and fainter sound of the frantic footfalls chasing behind her.  “My horse now!” she called back at him, laughing, and brought the horse to a gallop, the wind rushing through her hair.

It was only midday, and one of the foothills that rose before her in the distance sheltered her destination, an isolated, wooded copse marked on her mother’s map.

 

* * *

 

It took about an hour of searching, but she finally found it, or at least a mysterious woman who looked like about the right person.

“Are you an oracle?”  Susan asked as she stepped forward into the sunlit clearing.  Grassy, wide, and empty of everything except a very small pond, a cloaked woman sat in the middle, surrounded by birds.

Upon entering, Susan felt something different about the glade.  Something was electric in the air, somehow.

The woman didn’t look away from clear water before her.  “I am no oracle.  Come forward, though.  I have advice to give.”

“I,” Susan started, but a chill rushed down her spine.  The warm breeze was gone, and the forest was silent.  Her feet, however, took her forward of their own volition.  She took a deep breath to steady herself, and said, “I’m not here for advice.  I just have a question about a prophecy.”

Pointing a finger downwards, she motioned for Susan to sit.  She did, cross legged in the soft grass, and watched as the woman gently stirred the water in the pond with her finger.  “It is always the ones that ask for no advice that need it most.  I know your fate, Crushbone.”

“The issue is, I don’t.”

The woman retracted her hand, tucking it back away under her cloak.

“Here is my advice.  My warning.  If you never know your destiny, you will live unburdened.  You may still fulfill it.  You may never know that.  If I tell you what you are meant to do, you will be chained to it.  You will follow it.  You may struggle like fish in a net.  Will you be trapped, or will you know nothing?  That is your choice.”

“Either way, I get the same end result?”

“It is prophecy, not gentle recommendation.”

“...Does the prophecy say I’ll be a hero or a villain?”

The woman sighed.  “Depends on who you ask.  Morality is fickle.  I live above it.”

Something about that nearly won a laugh from Susan, but her throat was tight with something between worry and anticipation.  “What is my fate?”

The woman pulled her hands out of the cloak and cracked her knuckles.  Susan watched in the pond as grey clouds passed over the sky.  It felt as though something was loud, roaring, but she knew the entire forest was quiet.  She felt like she could shiver out of her skin.

“You will destroy this world.  You will destroy it with your dick.”

The sky turned nearly black.

“What?”

“You have power, Crushbone.  Immense power.  Latent power.  Sex power.  Power this land can not handle.”  

“I feel like some of this makes sense and some of this doesn’t-”

“There were others before you.  They tore apart the world at the seams while building it anew.  You are part of a long lineage.  Your path of creation and destruction is not the first.  But it is the horniest.”

“Now I feel like none of that makes sense-”

“You will have many quests.  All lead to the same ends.  Eroticism.  Compromising the physical integrity of the land.  Bringing in new things.  Beings and concepts foreign to the land.  Smoking certain plants.  This is your inevitable path.”

Susan did not speak, her mouth dry and her hands numb.  The two sat in silence as Susan, frozen, watched the stormclouds pass.

The woman traced a finger over the surface of the water, and added, “I warned you.  Destiny is a heavy burden to know.  Too bright to look at with the eyes.”  She tapped her head through her hood, and sounded almost like she was laughing when she said, “Look at with the mind.”

“I don’t understand.  How am I supposed to fuck the world into the apocalypse?  I thought sex wasn’t inherently bad.  Are you- is the prophecy saying the whole ‘sex positive’ thing is wrong?”

The woman waved a hand, dismissive.  “No, no.  No agenda here.  You have power.  I told you that.  Special, horny powers.  Powers that will build the world up until the world crumbles upon itself.  I said this.  Listen better next time.”

Susan stood up again, slowly, legs threatening to buckle beneath her, and turned to leave, heart thrumming loudly in her chest.  Before she reentered the copse of trees, she turned back to look at the woman.

“Next time?  We’ll meet again?”

Despite the woman wearing a hood, Susan sensed, somehow, that she winked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susan Crushbone goes on HGTV on this latest episode of Househunters, except the hunting does not mean "fervent searching" but instead "murder probably." Tune in after this commercial break.

“Latent powers” could mean a lot of waiting and a lot of surprises, Susan discovered.  She’d guessed that if boning down was part of her cosmic destiny, she’d better get to it.

The easy part was that everyone seemed pretty enthusiastic to get down with her if she asked.  But that seemed to easy, and if her destiny’s end result was already inevitable, she thought she may as well put in the effort into making it a challenge, and perhaps even an art.  At least take them out to dinner first, right?

The man in front of her was gorgeous, but so were most people in the Skyrim she knew.  With smooth skin, glossy hair, and high cheekbones, he managed to look nice even in the ruddy orange lighting of the inn.

Susan put a hand over his, propping her elbow on the table between them, reveling in his candlelit beauty.  "We should go somewhere more private, hm?"  He only smiled in reply.

They walked back to his house in the darkness, his arm over her shoulder, hers around his waist.  

After a while, he murmured, "Susan, I do like you."  Squeezing her on a fur-clad shoulder, he added, "We've only known each other a short while, but I'm absolutely enamored."

She'd never heard a man say that to her before.  Not knowing whether to be flattered or incredulous, but definitely amused, she turned to look at him.  He'd been staring at her with this earnest look in his eyes, his brows slightly furrowed, his handsome face tinged with vulnerability.

She couldn't help but bark out a sharp, loud laugh.  The moment she did, the cotton shirt she could feel at his waist seemed to disappear, replaced with warm skin.  After a delay, his eyes widened, and Susan leapt back in shock.

He was entirely naked, and clearly, suddenly cold in the night air.  Jaw dropped, he looked up at Susan.

"What the fuck.  You disrobed me!  What the fuck!"

"I- I-" Susan stammered, trying to gather her senses.  Was this one of the powers the oracle spoke of?  A mystic spell that liberated people of their clothe prisons?  A fuck yell?  Collecting herself, she said, "I didn't do anything.  I don't know any magic.  I only do swords and things, remember?"

"Then what," he gestured broadly to his nude body, "Is this?"

"Uh," she said, "A hot hunk of meat?"

"I mean, you're right, but really?"

"Maybe the gods wanted a little more natural beauty in the landscape?"  Susan offered, pointing to the graceful palm trees and moonlit pines that surrounded them.  Then, she tapped a finger to her chin, thoughtfully.  "Maybe it's a sign?"

His shoulders loosened, and he looked her in the eyes.  "A sign...  a sign of what, Susan?"

Susan shrugged and winked.  "You know."

 

* * *

 

Maybe whatever ancient forces granted these powers to Susan should have been more discriminating.  She spent several hours yelling at birds, and stomped her feet in frustration when they flew away with all their feathers intact.

She tried it with her horse, too.  Shouted at dogs and chickens in town as she passed by, until a guard tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to stop.  Shouted at him, too, and watched his armor disappear into thin air, and his sudden shudder when exposed to the cold breeze.

At the nearest inn, up at the bar in the evening, she asked, “What are birds supposed to look like naked?”  and the innkeeper didn’t even look up from the glass she was polishing.

“The same.  The don’t wear clothes.”

“So they just have their dick out and everything?”

“I mean, if you think of it that way.”

Susan brought her hand to her mouth.  “Oh my goodness.  I never thought.”  


* * *

 

_I need a home_ , she thought to herself.

A few weeks of boning seemed to bring no cosmic destruction to the land.  Susan decided this was a long-term investment, and she’d need to be prepared to fight the good fight for an indefinite amount of time.

It had also occurred to her that she couldn’t just return to the Crushbone family home, full of normal people with reasonable clothing and no awareness of the powers of disrobing magic.  She needed a new place to come back to, instead of spending her nights in the inns, or laying in the dirt in the forest and counting the stars, no matter how freeing it is.

“How do I steal a house?” she mused aloud.  The concept of exchanging currency for anything was entirely foreign to her, but to her knowledge, she could not just grab a house and its foundation and take it with her.

She could kill all the inhabitants of an occupied home with her trusty key-like sword, surprisingly effective for its utter lack of sharp edges (she bludgeoned).  But that did not take care of the fact that homes are stationary, and if she needed to abscond due to a bounty over her head, she was fucked, and not in the way she needed to be, but in the way she’d very much prefer not to be, and that being jailtime.

She scuffed at the dirt with her feet as she walked the worn country roads.  “Try to build a cage that can keep _me_ ,” she muttered, and kicked again.  She wanted a sweet crib.  She _needed_ a sweet crib.  She could marry someone and share their sweet crib, but she wasn’t much for monogamy and she didn’t want someone in her house.  Killing the newfound spouse was always an option, except, again, the risk of accruing a bounty, and also infringing upon her developing philosophy; the only way one of her lovers could perish could be if her dick was too bomb.  Hadn’t happened yet, but one day.

It kept echoing in her head.   _Private property is fake_ , over and over again.

She needed a house she could take with her.  


* * *

 

It always came to her not when the wanted it, but when she needed it most.  To the East, she’d managed to infuriate individuals in nearly every town which dappled the countryside with her admittedly bad tendency to kill and loot any passerby.  To the West, there was heavy snowfall, and lately the only clothing or armor she could find exposed her entire toned and perfect stomach.  To the North, she’d killed the archmage, definitely on accident, after screaming his clothes off, definitely not an accident.

Her only option at the moment was to go down South.  Right down South.  South,  geographically, metaphorically, physically.  There were probably beautiful women down there.  Beautiful men.  Beautiful creatures?  And probably no bounty pinned to her head yet. 

If Susan was anything, she was efficient.  A river cruise sounded like the perfect option, for its swiftness, its romantic airs.

The moment she set foot on the deck, she wanted it.  The whole thing, waterlogged wood and all.  It was a tall, majestic ship, although a little worn at the edges.  Susan was already thinking of naming it after herself.

She skipped settling into her quarters and walked straight into the captain’s office, her heeled boots clicking loudly in the corridors.  Throwing the door open, she stood, legs set apart, hands firm on her hips, in front of his desk, where he was shuffling through paperwork.

He peered up at her, a man with a great beard and mustache, and a brow furrowed in confusion.  “Excuse me?”

Susan wondered if she should have knocked, but she had to be confident, assertive.  The strongest person in the room.  She straightened her posture even a little more.

“I’d like your boat.”

“I like my boat, too.”

“I want your boat.”

He put the papers down, and sighed.  “What are you talking about?”

Leaning forward and putting a hand over his, she said, “What would I have to do to have ownership of this boat?”

He looked unfazed.  “It’s in use.  Not for sale, miss.”

Assessing the situation, Susan looked around the room.  “When will it not be in use?”

“When the cruise business stops, but I plan on passing this down to my sons, so not any time soon.”

“So I’ll have to end the entire river cruise industry to get this boat?”

“Please don’t.”

She pulled her hand away with a huff.  “You’re a poor negotiator.  I have things to do, you know.”  With that, she stormed out of the cabin, and into her room.  


* * *

 

The next day, she came up to the deck to watch the sunrise.  Other travelers mingled in the morning air, talking and watching the land pass by. 

She stood by the door to the rest of the ship, and waited.

Nearly by noon, the first mate came out.  Then the second mate, and a few other workers Susan could only assume were also mates of some variety.  By the time the sun was high in the sky, the captain finally emerged, not noticing his adversary by the doorway.  All the important shipmen were on deck.  Time to strike.

All the customers on deck turned and watched in shock as Susan screamed, and the captain’s clothing dissipated, naked to the fresh river air.  She pressed her hands to her face, feigned being appalled, as he futilely attempted to shield his his genitalia from the cold breeze and colder stares.  

“For _shame!_ ” Susan called out, backing away.  She threw her gaze to the other passengers, aghast.  “Naked on your own ship, in front of innocent customers!”

The first mate rushed forward to throw his coat over his shivering captain, and pinned a glare at Susan.  “I don’t know what happened here, but I’ll have you know this is a safe and positive community on this boat, and we don’t shame people’s bodies, because nature isn’t offensive!”

“But everyone else is-”

“The customers are staring because you screamed, ma’am!  I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t control yourself, or if you foster a nudity-negative environment in this place of tolerance.”

Oh, fuck that.  Susan was a sex-positive princess with no patience for slander.

She drew her blades.

 

* * *

 

Cleaning up her new home was pretty easy.  The hardwood floors were sturdy, and only needed a little polishing, and the whole place already had a rustic charm to it.  The ceilings were low, but she planned on painting them a brighter colour to open up the space.  It came with free furnishings, but the bloodstains on deck took a bit of polishing to get out.  Susan liked the five bedrooms, master suite, office space, and view of the riverside, but wasn’t a fan of the lack of bathrooms or patio, and kind of wished the appliances that came with it were a little less outdated.  The best part of the deal was the location, which, if she were a realtor, she would label as, “anywhere you damn please, it’s a boat.” 

The whole “anywhere” thing especially excited Susan.  She wanted to put it where nobody could ever reach it but her, and also some place with a great view.  Suspended about 6 yards above a river sounded about right.

She wondered, sitting out on the deck and watching the sun rise, what the resale value would be.  Considering what she payed for it, whatever it was, it would be a profit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you sex empress...

**Author's Note:**

> trust me on this one


End file.
